My life
by Monarch
Summary: Yeah, we all know Kai keeps secrets form the rest of us. BIG ones, probably too. About the Abbey, his parents...the past in general. But how about NOW, at this moment? What would the great kai Hiwatari have to hide?::Written from Kai's point of veiw.
1. Dragonlady's class

**Waterfall**

waterfall

pouring

tears.

* * *

I clutch the crumpled piece of paper in both hands. My fingers have turned to talons, desperate and possessive. It's taken me nearly all night to write those three words, even with my younger brother's patience.

_She probably won't like it,_ I remind myself. My teacher never likes anything I write, anyway—only looks at it with scorching eyes. I'm sure she is thinking of the fat, red 'F' she will place there. I have this vision of her in her lair—dark and dragon-like—laughing maniacally as she stamps her rejection onto my paper.

I swing myself over the fence, letting momentum land me where I need to be. My feet touch ground this time—no face plant into the earth. The school is in front of me. Dark and grey as always. My heart is pounding already as I search for Them. They are nowhere to be seen, but my chest is still fluttering like a bird's wild wings.

I run to the door of the school, and pull it open. It is glass, so I know that the hallway will be clear for me. Still, an image of Derrick Ivas and his gang, hiding like vampires behind the no-longer transparent glass never fails to find me. I am still high on adreline, fear clutching at my throat as I run up the stairway to my dormitory.

It is empty. My roommate must me at breakfast by now. Maybe if I am fast enough, I can get there before class. But no time to worry about that. I grab at my books, and throw them into a half-pile by my door, then hurry into my uniform. Then, snatching up my books again, I run out of the door. My foot catches on the frame, and I fall face-down onto the floor, my books skidding across the floor. Someone watching from their doorway sniggers. I shoot them a death-glare, but it doesn't have its usual effect here in school.

I collect my books again, face burning from embarrassment and the insults pouring from the mouth of my schoolmate. But reaction is not the best path here—I learned pretty fast that people fight differently here. My movement can't catch up to their strange, foreign reflexes.

* * *

I am in class now. The paper is still in my hands. I can almost feel it breathing, life amongst the dead wood of my desk, the still metal of it's legs. My classmates are in their own worlds now. Or at least the one that isn't mind. I can feel the hostility. _You are not welcome here,_ their silence says. And I am not. 

Now the teacher is asking for our homework. "Class, please take out the poems you completed yesterday." And then there is a flurry of movement, people searching through their desks, whispering to each other. "I didn't finish mine!" the girl beside me whispers to her friend. I feel a surge of pride. Something I have done that she is not, despite her long, wavy-blonde hair, her picture-perfect cheerleader's body.

The teacher is coming around, collecting. She gives a gentle warning to cheerleader-girl, but she doesn't really seem to mind. Of course she wouldn't. Cheerleader-girl is perfect.

She stops at my desk, looking with distaste at the crushed lined paper I've tried to flatten against my desk. She detests the paper, and it's hardly-legible writing. It looks like it belongs in kindergarten, she must be thinking. But it's done.

"Kai, this was supposed to be typed." She says sharply. I look down. I've almost forgotten that. But it happens every time we have an assignment—I'd think she'd remember by now.

The whole class turns it's attention to me. A few people whisper. "Loser!" This is their entertainment today.

"I don't have a printer." I whisper. She looks at me. She hasn't heard, or maybe she has but she knows the class hasn't. They know though. It happens to often not to, "Speak up!" She commands.

"I don't have a printer." I say it again, louder. Clearer. People snicker. The teacher ignores them, and falls on me again.

"You could use the schools." She informs me. My face turns red. I know that. It's the words that confuse me. It's a printer that spits out you work, I remember now.

"Y-you need a—a computer to use them." I stumble over the words, making sure they are right this time. The class leans forwards, smirks pasted onto their faces.

"Do you _have_, a computer, Kai?" She asks. Of course she knows the answer. How can she not?

"No." I say. It is true. And the school makes allowances for that—if you don't have a computer, you don't have to type your work, and the teachers will tell you your assignments if you ask. It doesn't happen, though. The school should know that, too.

"Could you have borrowed someone's?" She asks, sharply.

"No." I say. "There wasn't time." That's also true. I went home for help, and I meant to go back to borrow Wyatt's, but it was too late to go out again. So I just stayed at home. But of course, I can't tell the teacher that—you're not allowed to leave the property.

"Well, I'll have to accept it again." She admits grudgingly. She looks down at it again. "No, I won't." She says. I don't think she meant to say it out loud, though, because she turns pink. "I mean, I can't accept this, Kai. You were told to write a haiku. This is not a haiku!"

"Yes it is!" I protest. She looks at me sharply. "It as three lines, look!" I'm panicking now. My assignment…I spent all night on it!

The class is snickering again. "Yes, it does." The teacher nods. "But a Haiku must have five syllables in the first line, seven in the next and five again. Your poem has…" ----she glances down at it—"Three, two and one." The class giggles again.

"Can't you accept it anyway?" I ask, desperately.

"No." She says. "I'll have to give you a 'zero', Kai."

She leaves the poem on my desk and continues collecting. I look down, feeling numb. That pretty much sums up my life. Zero. A fat, red 'F'.

* * *

Note:

If you're reading this…I can't say I know why. But thanks, I suppose…

This is sort of like a journal, I guess. Except that people are reading it. Besides my teacher, I mean. And she's not really reading it either, so actually maybe it's not like a journal at all. But I think I'd go insane not telling anyone any of this. And I can't really tell my teammates. So I put it somewhere where they won't find it and apparently it's worked because you're reading it, aren't you?

--Kai Hiwatari

* * *

_O.o…Poor Kai. Typical too—he hasn't really explained properly up there. AND he has no conclusion. :P Sorry 'bout that, but I couldn't find anything Kai-ish to say, and not ending properly sounds VERY Kai-ish to me._

_Anyway…anyone remember this story, by nay chance? Yeah, that's right…I'm re-doing it. And VERY differently, I might add. Why? I FEEL LIKE IT! Also…the original way was going to take far too long. It would NEVER get finished! And that would be very bad. nods . And anyway, this way makes more sense. (Kai's a terrible writer…why should his story be well-written?) Anyway…I hope the technique (yes, there WAS a technique used, believe it or not!) came off right._

_And yes, I know I should be working on my other stuff. I'm planning to re-do most of it anyway, though…_

_Coming soon—that oh-so-mysterious family of Kai's shall be revealed! Also, you can look forward to flashbacks of the Abbey, and other such things in his past. Oh yeah! And Kai's doing the reviews, the same as last time._

_Review? I LOVE suggestions, and I do use them. And yeah—you can address the review to either Kai or me. Put anything you don't want him to read in parenthesis (The things this note is inside of…) And I'll hide that section from him, and respond myself. Anything you want to ask Kai to talk about…just ask him…suggestions to do with the content can go my way._

_THANKS! _

_--Monarch_


	2. Basketball

_Okay, now…before anyone becomes offended by Kai's reviews…you have to know that I try to keep them as realistic as possible. The reviews aren't QUITE part of the stories, even if they're inside it, but I write them as through Kai honestly and truly wrote them himself. So…yeah. He appreciates every one of them, though—I believe he said that in Rising Phoenix's review—even if he doesn't say so directly. Heh, you know Kai…:P_

_In fact…I'll review to all…reviews…that require an extra reply right now! (That means…you added an extra section to you review addressed to me, Kai said something ridiculously offensive, ect…)_

_**Rising Phoenix** Awesome poem! Sorry about Kai…(bonks Kai on the head with a Ice Cream scooper)…he liked it too. But NO…just LOOK what he says! He's so evil… Keep the note above in mind, 'kay?_

_Thank you! I probably won't update as much as I did One-way Mirror (In the beginning, I mean), but I'll try to do so regularly. Speaking of which…One-way's on pause, for a bit. I think I'm going to re-do it. Sorry about that! I'll try to get it up and running soon!_

_And…OHMIGEE! I'm in your favourite author list? And BOTH One-way and My Life are in the stories! THANK YOU SO MUCH!  (Gives you a truckload of Kai and Max plushies)_

_**Lady Shiora:** Oph…good idea! Actually, no, he doesn't…but I can't seem to get that idea out of my mind. So, from here on, he probably will! Not word-association, though, because I'd have to look that up and do actual WORK. I'm allergic to work, you know! So…while I'm here…you must ignore his rudeness as well. The idea sort of shocked him, you see. And he's never been tested, so he wouldn't know._

* * *

It's now one in the morning.

It took me three days to upload the last chapter, by the way. I had to keep sneaking in and saving stuff I wrote on Wyatt's account. Hopefully, he doesn't check his Recycle Bin much. Or clear it out.

In any case, I'm writing the new chapter now. And since I'm planning to respond to all reviews, I'll do that now.

**Rising Phoenix:** Nice poem…but you know what? I'm tired of hearing that. Yeah, I know what you mean, and I know it's probably true. But it doesn't help too much…Besides, I know plenty of people who've been through exactly the same thing as me. And one of them sticks his hair up like wings, owns a sock monkey, and chases pigeons through the park. That just makes me worried about my own sanity.

Yeah, I ask myself that sometimes. And no…I don't think it's fair. Still, having people do things like this—taking the time to read _and_ review someone's desperate journals…it helps. Same goes for everyone who reviewed. Thanks.

**Althea Astera Reneta: **Really? Wow…thanks. The next instalment might be a while—technically, I'm not allowed to use the library computers…haven't paid for the service—but I'll try to get it written and up quick.

**Renluva: **Thank you! Like I said above, I'll get it done as fast as possible. By the way, may I ask how you're going to give cookies out over the internet? Well…thanks for the thought, I guess…

**Lady Shiora:** Of course I don't! So no, I'm not going to 'confide' in anyone.

_(Erm…Hi! (waves sheepishly) As you've probably guessed already, author notes are in italics…I'll try to keep out of the story as much as possible, but just in case anyone skips the notes above—I don't necessarily share Kai's opinions. But these reviews are as close to what Kai would say as possible. When he says something mean like that, don't be offended or anything. You all know Kai…and he sort of does stuff like that. Any notes about Kai's reviews can be found in the author notes above and below the story. Sorry about that! )_

In any case, I think I'll be doing this from now on. I mean, you did review, so the least I can do is respond.

So, what's happened since I last wrote this? Well…I guess I'd better get started…I take a long time to write.

After dragon-lady's class, we have gym. I guess you'd think I'd be good at this one thing, but I'm not. That's the thing about Biovault—it's about Beyblading, and nothing else. I can run fast, and for a long time, but not much else.

We're learning basketball, now. At least, I'm trying, since everyone else already knows. Mostly, the gym teacher just yells at us to go to half-court or the foul line or defence or something. I never understand her instructions. If she's in a good mood, she tells me where to go in this fake-patient voice—like, 'look at me, I'm being nice to the retard', and if she's in a bad mood she gets mad at me and yells the place at me again. So I have to walk to different lines on the gym until I find the right one, which sometimes takes most of the gym time. And it makes my classmates really mad at me.

Today, she's in a bad mood. She just told me to play centre. Apparently, it's an important place because everyone scowled at her until she said that everyone had to play every position because it's curriculum. Then they scowled at me. Kevin—not the one on the White Tigers, the one in my class—threw a spit ball at me and called me a name I wish I could actually remember, so I could use it back at him. I can't, though.

In the corner—playing defence—Dennis sends me a smile which is probably supposed to be reassuring. It isn't much. He's in the Special Students class with me, and it's sort of a 'good luck, and please, please don't embarrass yourself even more than you have already' kind of smile.

I walk around on different lines. The other team laughs, probably anticipating an easy victory. Good for them. They're probably going to get it. My team glares at me. Kevin throws another spitball. "You stand in the _centre_, retard!" He jeers. My face turns red, and I try the middle. The other team bursts out into laughter. "Of the _gym,_ genius!"

I turn even redder. I must look like a tomato, by now. Yeah, yeah—I know. I've been trained since birth to mask my emotions. But does it work now, when I need it most? No. Of course not. Jeering crowds can do that to you.

So the gym teacher finally nods to me, still looking furious. I watch her coming closer, trying to remember what exactly people usually do in this position. I notice there is someone across from me, for the opposite team. Is he important?

He raises his hand, for some reason. Can you actually ask questions in gym? Probably not. It's probably not important anyway, I decide, and focus on the teacher. She looks at us, tries to raise an eyebrow at me—she can't, and just lifts both—and drops the ball. The other person bats it away to his team with his upraised hand. Oh.

Then he's chasing the ball—it looks like everyone is. My team runs after it too, but the teacher barks at them to keep their position. I freeze, and stay still. Maybe Centre wouldn't be so hard after all, I decide. No one ever stays near the middle anyway.

I turn to look behind me. The defence is moving around, trying to get the basketball from the other team. A bunch of people are yelling at me, but I can't really tell what they're saying. All of them are screaming at once, and their words are mangled. Dennis waves his hands wildly. I think he's trying to be helpful, but I can't tell what he means.

Now the other team is cheering. They've got the ball through the circle. My team looks depressed. They're glaring at me, mostly.

The teacher comes into the middle, and drops the ball again. I figure that we really are supposed to his it towards our team, so I whack at it. I'm way faster than the other person, so I do get it. But it flies over to the opponent's team. Oops.

Well, at least I'm done, right? I stand there in the centre, hoping no one comes towards me. My team is screaming again. Kevin, looking angry at loosing, breaks from the defence at comes towards me. He screams at me. Slowly, as if talking to a small child, but his words sound almost hysterical. "Go! Get! The! BALL!" He swings his fist at my face. I react before I can think, grabbing for his missile. Lucky for me, wild, angry shots have no basis in training, so I actually grab the right spot—his wrist—and lean my weight into a twist, sending him crashing to the ground. He screams, then breaks off into small, anguished moans. Oh, yeah—I forgot about that. People here are pretty pathetic when it comes to injuries.

The teacher comes towards us, red-faced and angry. Oops. I forgot about that too. Violence is usually discouraged in school, right? "To the office, Hiwatari! NOW!"

She turns away from me, attempting to quiet and calm Kevin. I leave, sending one, quick look at my team as I exit through the door. It's long enough, though, to catch a victory smile on Dennis's face, a wide smile as he nods enthusiastically to me.

* * *

Okay. It's been too long since I last updated, and this chapter's really long anyway. So I'll stop now, and just post the rest of it later. I'm trying to break it down into smaller sections, by the way. Which is _really_ hard to do. I mean, it's hard enough to get the stuff onto the paper, but taking it off again?

* * *

_Okay. Sorry for taking so LONG. But much of the next chapter's already written, so the next update SHOULD be fast. I was PLANNING on giving you one, long chapter, but it's at six pages and counting. And that's just…too…long._

_Thanks for reading, and please leave a review:) It's quick, easy, and it makes me VERY happy:D :D It'll also make KAI very pleased.  
_


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